Son of Shadows
by Aqsa
Summary: When one of Polgara's son is cursed with a destiny unknown, what'll happen to the world when a God raises the ancient spirit the Shadows?
1. Old Desire

The Prophecy was dwelt with.  
  
It was over.  
  
Finally..  
  
And the Gods of the people had gone, leaving the humans to fend for themselves.  
  
There was no longer any Child of Light or Child of Dark.  
  
But there was a Darkness.  
  
And there still was Light.  
  
So long as they both existed, they could never be in harmony.  
  
Ever.  
  
But how the Darkness survived--- no one knew. Not even the God that roamed the Darkness.  
  
Somewhere.....  
  
It had awoken to the triumph of the Child of the Light when Errand, the silent child, had  
  
become God.  
  
Shadowed eyes preyed upon the people, and called upon the deceased as its army.  
  
Zandramas's defeat brought her dark spirit to the God in the Darkness, and she surly jumped  
  
in pleasure when she discovered something there.  
  
But with the God, there stood a Queen..  
  
The Queen of the Shadow's glared upon her enemy, and her enemy's family, in envy.  
  
But the God of Shadow's lurked among the dark minds of his victims, watching the King  
  
who had ended his life many years ago....  
  
How long he watched, and how long he craved for his blood....  
  
The Shadow God laughed, as one of his men, held the child of his enemy....  
  
Most of his minions were there, next to his prey, and one was with the King he despised at all  
  
times....  
  
He will have his revenge, and he will regain his power.  
  
And much more then that..  
  
Ha!  
  
Yes..  
  
Much more.  
  
They believed him dead.  
  
All of them wanted him dead.  
  
Dead he was, but not entirely.  
  
He had created one species, that matched his name, in the Pits of Doom, where time  
  
stood still, and had his army ready now, and now, he would rise again, and he WILL kill  
  
King Belgarion of Riva, Holder of the Orb.  
  
The Orb of Aldur that belonged to Him!  
  
Shadow God or not, his desire for the stone was greater then immortality.  
  
Greater--- yes! When he will achieve the Orb, he WILL be the King of the World.  
  
Then he will find his Betrayer's and destroy them as well.  
  
Even his Mother, the moon, who had shadowed his defeat, not allowing his minions to help  
  
him battle with his enemy.  
  
But first he had to find a fitful body for his dark spirit that planned all this in Darkness.  
  
Then he had to get his one and only desire..  
  
Power from the Orb---  
  
His Orb.....  
  
His Cthrag Yaska..... 


	2. Visions

Polgara lay in her room, next to Durnik, her beloved husband.  
  
But as she lay, eyes closed, she tried to sleep.  
  
Restless, she tossed around in bed, her hand, leg, or head bumping, and awakening  
  
Durnik. He replied to her movements by snuggling in more into the bed and a little away  
  
from her. His dark eyes had bags under them, for he had worked hard in newly setting up  
  
a beautiful white fence around their cottage in the enchanting Vale.  
  
Polgara, noticing he had moved away, opened her eyes to glare at him but he had turned  
  
completely around, his back towards her. Sighing, she lay and relaxed into her pillow and  
  
closed her eyes.  
  
Finally, her mind seeming to sink into darkness, she fell asleep.  
  
Her sleep was dreamless, and all was finally quiet.  
  
"Polgara!"  
  
In response to the yell, Polgara's eyes flashed open.  
  
Durnik lay sleeping, facing her.  
  
She turned around in bed to look at the door of their bedroom and saw a shadow.  
  
Frowning, she looked closer, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, and saw that there was no  
  
shadow, it was just the other room door across the hall that had her twin sons sleeping in.  
  
Giving out an annoyed sigh, Polgara clutched at the blanket that Durnik lay curled in, and  
  
turned completely around, pulling the blanket off of Durnik and around herself.  
  
Now warm and comfortable, the Sorceress closed her pale eyes and once again, fell  
  
asleep.  
  
No whisper bothered her, for she was now in a deep sleep.  
  
So deep it was that she didn't awaken when Durnik awoke for the morning to see her  
  
sleeping. She didn't even wake up at the wail of her fifteen-year-old sons who wanted  
  
breakfast.  
  
"Polgara!"  
  
Someone called.  
  
So familiar was the voice that she shivered.  
  
When was the last time that beautiful voice had spoken to her?  
  
So sweet was the voice, so familiar, that it made her want to cry.  
  
The voice belonged to her other half, her beloved.  
  
"Polgara!"  
  
The voice called again.  
  
It was closer now, and as the voice paused for her, the floor creaked as the person came  
  
closer, coldness of death following.  
  
Polgara murmured something.  
  
Why was she so sleepy?  
  
As she slept, a sudden flash of something came before her minds eye.  
  
All she saw, or noticed, was the color of blue and the smell of rose blossoms.  
  
"Polgara...." came the voice, next to her ear.  
  
Gasping, Polgara awoke, only to discover she lay alone in her room.  
  
The door burst open and her eldest son, Durain, entered. "Mother!" he moaned, "I'm  
  
hungry!"  
  
"Don't bother me about it." She replied, sitting up.  
  
"What?" Annoyingly cried Coro, Durain's twin, who came walking in.  
  
Polgara then replied, "Go wash dishes, Coro, and Durain, go broom the house"-- and as  
  
they protested (as usual), she added--"and i will go get breakfast ready."  
  
Coro, his pale brown eyes lowered, turned out of the room, his wavy midnight black hair  
  
falling into his eyes. Durain, on the other hand, had his mother's temper. His own pale  
  
brown eyes flashed, and his wet dark hair slightly moved from where he had  
  
slicked it back. Both of them were identical, the only thing that was different about them  
  
was that Durain walked and talked like her beloved Garion, and Coro acted more like  
  
Durnik.  
  
But both her sons had the talent.  
  
Durain, more powerful than Coro, held back on showing how much power he held in his  
  
mind, but Coro, at any chance he got, he used his well taught sorcery, even to wash  
  
dishes.  
  
Polgara frowned when she heard a loud whisper of Coro using his Will.  
  
Then she turned her anger on her son, Durain, "Go, Durain! or you're not going to Riva to  
  
see King Belgarion."  
  
His mouth dropping open, he dashed out of the room.  
  
Shaking her head, Polgara slid out of bed and stood up.  
  
Why was Durain so obsessed with Garion?  
  
Durain went so far as to ask his father to craft him a mighty sword with a stone in the hilt.  
  
After getting dressed, she went into the kitchen and prepared food and set it upon the  
  
table. At her call, Durnik and Durain came into the room. Coro, already sitting down,  
  
looked up and smiled at them, as the dishes washed themselves.  
  
Durain growled at his twin, who frowned at his dirty father.  
  
Durnik had mud all over his face, hands and cloths.  
  
Sheepishly, he smiled at Polgara who shook her head, "Go clean up everyone." Durain  
  
followed Durnik out of the room.  
  
Looking out of the kitchen, Polgara saw the broom working away.  
  
Coro stood to leave as well when a sudden flash of blue appeared before Polgara's eyes.  
  
Coro stopped and turned to his mother, frowning.  
  
"W-what was that, Mother?" He asked, his tanned face full of confusion.  
  
Another flash of blue appeared before their eyes.  
  
All they saw was blue.  
  
Then the blue seemed to shimmer into water.  
  
A scene took place then. And as they watched, the water became an ocean, then the  
  
surface rippled. As they watched, in wonder, the surface rippled until someone began to  
  
emerge out of the water. A head, baring long golden hair came out, face down, with a  
  
gold crown upon the head. Then the body came, wearing blue robes. Dripping with water,  
  
the figure hovered over the water.  
  
With a flash, the woman looked up with emerald eyes.  
  
The vision faded and as it did, someone, next to their ears sighed, "Beware..."  
  
Polgara gasped.  
  
That face.... so much like hers...  
  
.... Beldaran....?  
  
Coro looked at his mother, looking for answers.  
  
Smiling, Polgara said, "Did you like it?"  
  
Frowning, he said, "What?" thinking he understood, he said, "You did that with your  
  
magic?" he asked.  
  
"Sorcery dear, not magic. But yes, i did it.... interesting huh?"  
  
Frowning, he nodded, and left the room, not taking his eyes off of hers.  
  
When he was gone, she grasped her amulet, letting the fear leap out, "Father..... I need  
  
you...." she called. 


	3. Death

Coro laughed as his parents wandered off into their room after breakfast.  
  
Durain glared at his identical brother and left the cottage.  
  
As the eldest of them both, Durain didn't bother being too nice as Coro, and was silent,  
  
more conservative. He was a serious child. And now, as a teen, he was still serious, but  
  
his attitude towards things had grown darker.  
  
Coro, on the other hand, was the lighter one.  
  
He was all to loose about situations, more easy-going. And he stuck with one thing, and  
  
most of the time, did as he was told to do.  
  
Durain was just opening the new white fence's latch when Coro burst inside.  
  
Feeling his twin preparing to use his Will, Durain spun around and pointed a strict finger  
  
at him, "Stop it Coro! If you use sorcery for no reason, Grandfather wont call you  
  
Belcoro. Okay?"  
  
"And if you run away, it doesn't mean he'll call YOU Beldurain."  
  
"Shut up." Durain said in disgust, "I'm not running away. I'm going for a walk."  
  
"A walk." Coro mocked.  
  
Shoving the gate door open, Durain stormed out.  
  
Coro ran after him.  
  
"Is it what I said while we were eating?"  
  
"No." Durain replied.  
  
Through the bond of being twins that they shared, Durain felt Coro's guilt and sadness.  
  
Coro, then, changed the topic as they climbed a hill that put the cottage out of sight on the  
  
other side, "Do you really think mother's going to take us to Riva?"  
  
"I don't think so." Durain replied. "She's been saying that we'll be going for at least two years."  
  
"Can you believe it that Garion's our distant cousin? I can't!"  
  
Durain glanced at Coro and smiled.  
  
"When I become a sorcerer, having achieved all my abilities, I will marry a beautiful  
  
woman, like Ce'Nedra, and i will have a mighty sword and glory." Durain said,  
  
dreamingly.  
  
Coro chuckled, "Yeah. Garion surly has a great life, may a evil eye never set upon him  
  
and his family." He prayed.  
  
Then, Durain laughed. "What 'evil eye'? There is none! Torak and Zandramas are dead,  
  
Coro, and with them died 'evil'."  
  
"You never know."  
  
"Know what?"  
  
Coro looked gravely at his twin, "If they ever come back."  
  
Frowning, Durain listened to what had happened to Coro and Polgara in the kitchen when  
  
he and Durnik had gone to clean up for breakfast. "Then, mother said that she had done  
  
it, and was like, 'did you like it?'--- but Durain, you should have seen her face! She was  
  
all pale, even her lips were pale!"  
  
"The voice said 'Beware'?" Durain asked, ready to laugh.  
  
"I'm serious!" Coro punched his twin on the arm, "Mother: Polgara the SORCERESS,  
  
was SCARED. Do you get it now Durain. I'm not joking."  
  
Pretending the punch hadn't hurt, Durain sighed.  
  
"But don't tell anyone I told you okay?" Coro said. In response, Durain nodded.  
  
This time, Durain changed the subject. "Can you imagine if one of us-- or both of us-  
  
didn't have the talent? We wouldn't be sorcerer's and we would have died of old age in  
  
front of Mother and Father?"  
  
Coro sighed--- not this topic AGAIN!  
  
Coro then argued, "I actually hate being immortal Durain." He admitted.  
  
"What?" Durain cried.  
  
"See, we're immortal, then what if we 'fall in love' to a mortal maiden? She would die, but  
  
we would not. Remember the stories Mother and Grandmother told us?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"The stories where everyone thought that Grandmother had died after---"  
  
"Yes--yes, Coro. I know that story." Durain cut in.  
  
"Good." Coro retorted, "Just wondering if your brains were workin'!"  
  
Durain laughed.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Workin?" Mocked Durain, "You're talking like Uncle Beldin!"  
  
"Yeah. In the stories Grandfather's told us. Beldin's probably not even real." Coro  
  
scuffed, "Vanishing with a girl--- Velvet?--- and never seen or heard from again."  
  
"Do you want to run off with some girl, Coro?" Durain teased.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Coro said, "Whatever! Anyways, I was saying that if we marry a mortal  
  
woman, and she dies of old age, we will be sad, and lonely, FOREVER." Sarcastically,  
  
he added, "Then you can dance alone in all that 'glory' you always wish for."  
  
Durain ignored his brother.  
  
"Can you believe that Ce'Nedra will die of old age and Garion will live forever?"  
  
Coro glared at Durain, "Shut up. All you ever talk about, other then what you want, is  
  
DEATH."  
  
"We all have to die sometime, Coro. How will we die if we're immortal?" Durain pressed.  
  
"Shut up." Coro rudely commented.  
  
But Durain continued.  
  
Finally, not able to take it in any longer, Coro slapped the back of Durain's head.  
  
"You idiot!" Durain cried when he bit his lip.  
  
Spinning around, he toppled over his twin with his shoulder.  
  
They wrestled in the high green grass, punching and groaning. It was half- serious, but for  
  
the other half, they were having fun. And practice.  
  
Both brothers wanted the same.  
  
Coro just hid it and Durain openly said what he wanted.  
  
Often, they fought, and called it practice.  
  
"Practice?" their mother would cry when they'd return bruised and bleeding.  
  
"Yes." they would reply innocently, "we want to, and will become great sorcerer's and  
  
great sword masters."  
  
Durnik would just laugh.  
  
But the last time they had met their distant cousin, Garion had said that he would teach  
  
them how to use a sword. Ever since then, they hadn't seen Garion. And Polgara refused  
  
to let them go with Belgarath when he had gone to Riva, just last year, and hadn't  
  
returned yet.  
  
Durain, his lower lip cut open and bleeding, blood dripping off his chin, lay flat of the  
  
ground. Coro, his right knee holding his twins legs down, and his left knee pressed on  
  
Durain's chest, breathed heavily, as he repeatedly smashed his bleeding knuckles against  
  
Durain's left, purple-bruised cheek.  
  
Coro's face was all red and blue-purple. He had gotten a black eye, and his nose bled a  
  
lot.  
  
"ENOUGH!" Durain managed to choke out.  
  
Without a word, Coro punched his brother one last time and rolled off onto the ground.  
  
They just lay there.  
  
Breathing hard.  
  
Feeling the blood rush to their heads as their wounds began to burn like fire.  
  
Durain rolled onto his side and spit out blood.  
  
Coro, laughing, sat up.  
  
"Mother's going to kill us." Durain said.  
  
"We can try to heal it with sorcery." Coro said.  
  
Durain scuffed, "But we haven't been taught that yet. If we try something, we might do  
  
something wrong and make it worse."  
  
Coro wiped a river of tears that flowed out of his eyes.  
  
Durain caught his and didn't dare to laugh because of his still-bleeding mouth. "Does it  
  
hurt?" He asked.  
  
Coro cupped his face in his hands and nodded, the pain in his eyes.  
  
"Lets go." Durain said.  
  
Standing up, Durain spit out more blood, and helped Coro up.  
  
At the same time, they looked up to see a cloaked figure approaching them.  
  
As if they were mirrors, Durain and Coro lifted their right hand and shielded the sun from  
  
their eyes as they watched. And at the same time, they glanced at each other, with raised  
  
eyebrows.  
  
The approaching figure came close and tossed the hood off that sat and shadowed the  
  
persons face.  
  
Coro gasped.  
  
Durain whispered, "Who is that?" 


	4. The Forsaken Curse

Polgara looked out the window as she saw Durain running to the cottage, alone. Turning  
  
from the window, she looked at Durnik and sighed, "He's all bloody--- again!"  
  
Durnik got up from the chair he sat upon, and went to the door.  
  
Opening the door, he called out to his son, "What did we tell you boys? No more  
  
fighting!"  
  
"Father!" Durain cried.  
  
Durnik shook his head and looked away, turning back into the house, "I can't save you  
  
boys from getting in trouble anymore."  
  
"No--- Father!" Durain almost screamed as he slammed the gate door open, "It's Coro!"  
  
Durnik quickly looked back at Durain, "What?" He said.  
  
"Someone's talking to Coro!"  
  
Polgara pushed past Durnik, and put her hands on her hips, "What are you talking about  
  
young man?"  
  
"W-we were playing, and uh, we saw this person coming to us."  
  
Alarmed, Durnik asked, "Who was it?"  
  
"I don't know!" cried Durain, all baffled, "but Coro cried out as if it was Grandfather,  
  
and ran towards the person--- the next thing I know, I'm laying on the floor, and Coro's  
  
nowhere to be seen! I looked everywhere--- I swear I did, but I can't find him!"  
  
Polgara snapped her fingers at her son and ordered, "Get in the house, and stay there!"  
  
Turning to her husband she said, "Come with me."  
  
With that, she hurried past the gate and headed up the hill.  
  
A whisper of her Will was heard, and as Durain watched, she transformed into a snowy  
  
white owl, that hurriedly flapped her wings, and soared high in the air.  
  
Durnik, only a few feet behind, glanced back to make sure Durain was in the house and  
  
saw his son looking at him through the window. Looking back, he shimmered into a large  
  
light brown wolf that sped out of sight.  
  
Durain, waited until his mother was out of sight as well. When she was gone, he went to  
  
the washroom and gazed into the mirror. His face was all swollen. After he washed his  
  
face, he looked back up, and gasped.  
  
He didn't see himself in the mirror, what stared back at him was the man he had seen.  
  
The man Coro had run towards in joy.  
  
The man staring back at Durain was tall, and a large black cloak hung at his shoulders,  
  
half concealing the murky gray gauntlet that was on the hand. Durain even saw himself in  
  
the man's silver armor.  
  
Durain paled, and looked at the man's face.  
  
Thick eyebrows, glaring at the fifteen-year-old, shadowed the man's dark eyes as dirt was  
  
on the tanned face, his upper lip slightly curved into a sneer.  
  
Durain stuttered to say something but his eyes began to water from not blinking.  
  
He blinked, but the man still stood there.  
  
Glaring.  
  
Backing away, Durain hit his back against the wall, blocking him form backing away any  
  
further.  
  
He shrieked when the man raised a hand towards him.  
  
Durain wasn't sure if the arm was coming out of the mirror, but he didn't care to know.  
  
"Durain." The man called with Coro's voice. "Where are you? Durain--- what are you  
  
doing?"  
  
The man's face went grave.  
  
Grabbing the sink with both hands, the man pulled himself out of the mirror, and jumped  
  
off the ground, his steel boots booming against the wooden floor like the roar of thunder.  
  
In fear, Durain fell to the ground, silent as he clamped his eyes closed.  
  
The man leaned down, and grabbed his shoulders, and began to shake him rudely.  
  
"DURAIN!" he yelled, eyes flashing, "Open your damn eyes!"  
  
The shaking continued hysterically until Durain opened his eyes to see Coro.  
  
"Shut up!" Coro cried, clamping his palms to his ears.  
  
Durain realized he was screaming, and stopped.  
  
"W-who was here?" He asked, his dry throat hurting when he spoke.  
  
"No one! Jeez." Coro rolled his eyes, "Now, I was asking if you wanted to eat  
  
something."  
  
Durain, confused, looked at Coro.  
  
"Well?" Coro asked, making a face as he headed out the washroom door.  
  
"Well what?"  
  
"Ah!" Coro cried, storming out of the room.  
  
Standing up, he fearfully looked in the mirror, and saw himself, face wet. Taking his  
  
shirt, he wiped his face dry, and ran out the room, slamming the door shut behind him.  
  
"Coro!" he called.  
  
From the kitchen, he heard a grunt for a reply.  
  
Walking into the kitchen, Durain asked his twin, "So where did you go?"  
  
Coro who was stirring something in a pot on the oven, turned around to look at him.  
  
With a serious face, Coro asked, "What?"  
  
"Stop saying what! Who was that man? Where the HELL did you go?" Durain lectured,  
  
"Mother and Father are gone out to look for you!"  
  
"What the 'HELL' are you talking about? They're gone to Grandfather's tower, you  
  
dumb ass."  
  
Durain frowned, "Grandfather's not here." He declared.  
  
Raising his eyebrows, Coro nodded, "Yes he is here," then sarcastically he added, "No, it  
  
was just some stranger that asked us to take him to Mother."  
  
"Coro. This isn't funny. I was laying on the floor, in the field, and when I got up, you  
  
weren't there!" Durain shouted, "I came here and told Mother and Father. They went  
  
running okay?"  
  
Quietly, Coro turned around and continued stirring.  
  
Puzzled, Durain just stared at his twin's back. "Why are you ignoring me?" Durain asked  
  
suddenly, clenching his teeth, as he felt used in some way.  
  
"I'm not ignoring you." Coro said.  
  
Durain scuffed.  
  
"I'm just not saying anything because you don't make any sense."  
  
The front door suddenly opened, and Polgara, Durnik, Belgarath, and Poledra entered.  
  
"Boys!" Durnik called.  
  
Pulling the pot off the oven, Coro headed out of the kitchen, after frowning at Durain,  
  
who followed a moment later, with a scowl upon his tanned face.  
  
Belgarath gazed at his golden-eyed wife, then back at his Grandson's.  
  
"How are you boys?" He asked as they both hugged Poledra and shook hands with him.  
  
"Fine." Coro replied.  
  
"Perfect." Lied Durain.  
  
Polgara smiled at her father, as Durnik gazed into his sons' eyes, a smile hidden behind  
  
the short beard he was growing.  
  
"What's going on?" Coro asked.  
  
Poledra reached inside of her red cloak she wore and pulled out two small boxes, and  
  
handed them both one each.  
  
They opened it at the same time, and gasped in surprise.  
  
Amulets of their own!  
  
At last!  
  
Coro pulled his out of the box and asked Poledra to put it on around his neck as Durain  
  
got his put on by Polgara. Coro's amulet had a python in it, curled up with an eye looking  
  
at them from the pile it had become after curling upon itself; and Durain's amulet had a  
  
dragon on it, the majestic wings wide open, and the snake-like neck stretched up, and the  
  
tail curled about.  
  
Looking up at his twin, Coro smiled, and received a smile, with no warmth in his twins  
  
pale brown eyes, and shivered. Belgarath looked over at Poledra, and in return, Poledra  
  
sighed, "It's happened. The Curse of the Twin's is in play, isn't it?"  
  
Polgara looked at her sons, and lowered her eyes. 


	5. Loved Ones

Durain ran.  
  
How long he ran? He didn't know himself. But he knew it was a long time.  
  
A long time..  
  
How old had he become?  
  
Were his parents looking for him?  
  
What about Coro?  
  
Durain sighed, looking into the mirror.  
  
He was now a young man, about twenty years old. His wavy raven black hair were a little  
  
past his ears, and his brown almond shaped eyes gazed at himself with distaste. Though  
  
he was not poor, nor rich, he wore cloths of a farmer, like his father. Tall and very  
  
handsome, he was the desire of all the women who lived around him, but only one had  
  
his heart.  
  
Almas.  
  
They were betrothed.  
  
She lived next door, and she was the face of beauty itself.  
  
He lived in Perivor, the land of the Dal. In the city, he was known as Orian, and, having  
  
learned swordsmanship from Sir Hassad, a man of the city, he was not a knight, but had  
  
the talent for one.  
  
Looking out of the mirror, he looked over his shoulder at Almas, the only one who knew  
  
his true name, and what he was: a sorcerer.  
  
"I ran away from home when I was sixteen." He said, telling his future wife of his past. "I  
  
couldn't bare the way they all looked at me and Coro, as though either one of us were the  
  
Cursed one." He sighed, looking back at the mirror, "I," he paused, lowering his eyes, "I  
  
didn't want to tell you this until we were married, but I don't want you to marry me, then  
  
realize my dark past."  
  
He felt her eyes on his back and turned to look at her.  
  
Looking into her large azure eyes, he melted, and gave her an ashamed smile. "Well,  
  
anyway," he continued, "I ran away, and stole my way through life until I made my way  
  
to this part of the world, and jumped into this ship that took me here. And here I am."  
  
Almas stood, and approached him.  
  
Being the daughter of a respected knight, she wore a gown the color of her eyes, her long  
  
midnight black hair hanging open to her waist. Her marble white skin was pale, but when  
  
she stood in front of him, she blushed slightly, and stroked back his hair out of his eyes.  
  
"What is this Curse?" She asked, her heart in her eyes.  
  
Durain scuffed, "I'm not so sure myself. All I know is that if a sorcerer has twins, and  
  
they both are sorcerer's, that's not good. My grandfather said that everyone has an  
  
opposite of himself or herself, and that one will not be.. 'good'. So, I left."  
  
Almas didn't say anything, "My father," She said after a while, "had met your cousin---  
  
Belgarion. He had unhorsed my father when he had come to this land and had broken  
  
three of my father's ribs." Smiling, she said, "Memories are the things that make us  
  
laugh, and remember our loved ones, Durain. You shouldn't lock them away, even from  
  
yourself. It isn't right."  
  
"Memory also brings back pain, Almas." He replied.  
  
"Pain makes you cry, and to cry is to level out stress." She countered.  
  
Laughing slightly, he bowed his head. "Sure." He agreed.  
  
"I want to see the world Durain." She said after a moment of silence, turning away from  
  
him to look out the window of Durain's house. "And I want you to come with me," she  
  
chuckled, "this'll happen after marriage, of course. Then you'll HAVE to come with me,"  
  
turning to him, she said, "right?"  
  
Shrugging, he replied, "Whatever you say."  
  
"Okay." She said. "The first thing I'd like to see though, is this Vale you grew up in."  
  
He went pale, "No. I will never go back there, Almas."  
  
"Why?" Almas asked, serious.  
  
"I-I'm ashamed of myself." He replied.  
  
"Is that all?" She said, "Durain, your mother may be immortal, but she is your mother.  
  
Imagine how much pain she is in, not knowing how her son is. Not knowing if he still  
  
lives, of is dead."  
  
Tearing his eyes away from hers, he looked away, stubbornly.  
  
"Durain." She said, commanding that he look in her eyes again, "Look at me." When he  
  
finally did, she continued, "If you son ran away, young and helpless, would you just be  
  
happy?"  
  
"Almas, I don't need this." He said.  
  
"You may not, but you mother may. What about your father? Your TWIN?"  
  
There was silence then.  
  
Turning on her heels, she marched to the door, "Well, I have to hurry to get my gown."  
  
And left.  
  
Gown.  
  
He fell to his knees.  
  
He was getting married in two days, without his family.  
  
Clutching his dragon amulet, he shed a tear.  
  
How could he tell Almas that he was the Cursed One?  
  
Could he tell her that the Curse of the Twin's made him want to slaughter his own twin  
  
brother? Even though he knew he loved Coro, and would die if anything were to happen?  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Coro smiled at his mother, handing over his newborn infant daughter to her.  
  
He had named her Aranda.  
  
His wife, Ulthanis, lay on the bed when he entered the room, her gray eyes closed, with  
  
her wheat colored blond hair pulled back away from her face. She was from Cherek. He  
  
had met her there when he had been looking for his brother.  
  
Polgara gazed after her son, who shut the door behind himself and looked down at  
  
Aranda, the baby girls honey brown eyes squinting.  
  
Turning around, all her sorrows erased for that one moment, she smiled up at her golden-  
  
eyed mother, tears of joy in her eyes, "Isn't she beautiful?" She asked.  
  
Poledra looked down at the child, smiling.  
  
Ce'Nedra, the Rivan Queen who had come to the Vale for the birth of her husbands  
  
cousin's daughter, approached the child in Polgara's arms, and sighed, "Oh dear," She  
  
murmured, "What a beautiful child."  
  
Garion took his wife's tiny shoulders and moved her aside, and took her place to look at  
  
the newborn, and sighed, "I forgot how babies look," he admitted, giving Ce'Nedra a  
  
look, and winking.  
  
Wide-eyed, Ce'Nedra blushed, "Sorry, one son and four daughter's are good enough for  
  
your Majesty." She said icily.  
  
Garion raised his eyebrow, but Polgara hushed them.  
  
The door opened, and Coro entered the room again, his dark eyes bright.  
  
Polgara handed his son his daughter, and led everyone out of the room, smiling at her  
  
son.  
  
Coro paid no attention to them, but stared in awe at his daughter, "Oh, your so tiny!" He  
  
said, then to himself, he murmured, "Only if you were here Durain."  
  
Shutting the door behind herself, Polgara gazed at Garion, who had his arm wrapped  
  
around his Queens shoulder, then at her mother, who sat by the window, looking at her.  
  
"When is father coming?" Polgara asked Poledra.  
  
Poledra smiled sadly, "He's not coming until he finds him."  
  
Garion looked away respectfully, leading Ce'Nedra out of the room.  
  
Polgara sighed, "He hasn't been found for at least four year's, mother. He doesn't want to  
  
come home, so let him live his life in peace. Why doesn't father just come home?"  
  
"Durain is still your son, Polgara. Why he left so suddenly, we'll have to ask him. We  
  
still have to discover who is the Cursed. Durain believes it is he. Let Belgarath find the  
  
boy."  
  
Polgara looked away, "He is dead to me, mother. He no longer is my son."  
  
"Pol, you cannot disown your own blood." Poledra replied, her golden eyes burning. 


	6. Betrayal

It was a month later.  
  
Durain was married, and all was well.  
  
Until the dreams came.  
  
In his dreams, he saw himself, standing on the shore of some sandy beach, and there  
  
would be a puddle of water before him, and as he watched, the water became an ocean,  
  
then the surface would ripple rapidly. As he stood watching, in wonder, the surface  
  
rippled until someone began to emerge out of the water. A head, baring long black-red  
  
hair came out, face down, with a crown of black marble upon the head. Then the body  
  
came, wearing dark green robes. Dripping with water, the figure hovered over the water,  
  
the bare toes pointed towards the water underneath. Then all of a sudden, he would see  
  
the woman's skin begin to glow, like little glowing sparkles were under her skin.  
  
With a flash, the woman looked up with big dark eyes of death. And she would open her  
  
full lips, and darkness came out, past her white teeth, and like smoke, the darkness  
  
wisped towards him.  
  
The darkness called to him.  
  
It wanted him.  
  
And the owner of the darkness needed him.  
  
He would wake up in sweat, and trembling.  
  
Durain already knew who that was, he knew her from the stories he heard growing up. It  
  
was Zandramas. And he was frightened to realize that the darkness came for him, and he  
  
wanted it to come, but something made him change his mind, just before the dark  
  
shadows touched him, and he would awaken.  
  
These dreams had begun to come the day he married Almas.  
  
He lay alone in his bed, and he took a deep breath to calm himself.  
  
Almas was gone to her mother's house for a week, since her mother was gravely ill.  
  
Getting out of bed, he went to his the washroom and washed his face. Then looked up  
  
into the mirror, but instead, he saw Polgara, his mother. She stood watching him, and her  
  
face was full of fury, and the white lock of her hair glowed brightly.  
  
"Durain," She said in a hollow voice, "I've disowned you. You shall never return to the  
  
Vale, or you will die by MY hands! Coro told me all of it! You tried to kill him in his  
  
sleep, Durain? How could you? Then you ran away! You coward!" Then, in a menacing  
  
voice, the sorceress said, "You surely are the Cursed one. Die, and rot in hell Durain!"  
  
Then, she vanished when he blinked in surprise.  
  
"Uh," He said uncertainly, as he rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
Then his eyes fell on the dragon amulet Belgarath had given him.  
  
A voice in his head then murmured, "Take it off Durain," The voice was cold, but so  
  
familiar, "They've disowned you. Take it off, my boy. If you do, I'll give you the love of  
  
a father," Then, a female voice murmured, "And I'll be your mother."  
  
He held the amulet in his fist, wide eyed.  
  
"Take if off Durain.... take the amulet off."  
  
Shaking his head, he ignored the voices and went back to bed, thinking, and worrying  
  
over what had just happened. He jumped out of a dreamless sleep, when his bedroom  
  
door slammed open.  
  
Opening his eyes, he saw Almas.  
  
"Al, your home? How's your mother?" He asked, his words slurred by sleep.  
  
She said nothing, but approached him, and smiled down at him.  
  
He noticed her eyes looked haunted, and vacant, and as she reached down and took off  
  
his amulet, she said, "Go to sleep Durain. Now, everything will happen, just as planned."  
  
But it wasn't Almas' voice that spoke; it was the voice that had spoken to him in his mind.  
  
But before he could snatch his amulet back, a heaviness overcame him, and he drifted off  
  
to sleep.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
He ran, again.  
  
This time, he knew where he was running.  
  
He was running home.  
  
To the Vale, where he belonged.  
  
But he was being chased, and hunted down by something unknown.  
  
Fear closed down on him. The kind of fear where ones insides became ice, and blood  
  
pumped like a wild river in the veins, and air battled its way to the lungs through the  
  
tightly clenched throat and chest.  
  
In his mind, he called out for help.  
  
He called out for his loved ones.  
  
"Mother!" He cried, afraid something might hear him as he hid behind bushes in some  
  
forest he had come across. "Help me." Tears of terror burned his eyes, and trying to calm  
  
down, he called for his twin, his father, his grandfather, and his cousin in Riva, but none  
  
could find him so soon-- even if they'd heard his cry.  
  
"Durain?" Came a voice.  
  
"Almas?" He thought. It was her voice after all. "I'm over here!" He called.  
  
Silence.  
  
Then he saw Almas, a nervous smile on her face and right next to her was the woman  
  
who haunted his dreams.  
  
Zandramas.  
  
The sorceress stopped, and immediately, Almas fell to her knees before the woman, head  
  
bowed. "I have done all you have asked of me." Almas said, "What will be my reward?"  
  
Zandramas sneered, "You're not done Veena," She said to Almas, "Go to the Vale, and  
  
cry to Polgara that her son is dead." She said all this, looking in Durain's eyes. "Now go."  
  
At her last words, Almas vanished like smoke.  
  
"Veena?" Durain asked, "Where-- how'd she do that! She's no sorcerer!"  
  
Zandramas threw her head back and laughed, her glowing skin going brighter. "Almas's  
  
true name is Veena, fool. And this is your dream-- anything can happen in dreams."  
  
"Anything?" Durain said, standing up, with a challenge in his voice.  
  
Zandramas' eyebrow lifted, "No for you, Beldurain. Your amulet is here. You cannot do  
  
anything."  
  
She lifted a hand to reveal his dragon amulet on her palm.  
  
"What do you want from me?" He yelled.  
  
The betrayal of Almas pained him, and the anger of it was in his eyes.  
  
At that, the dead sorceress opened her mouth, and the shadows leaped out towards him.  
  
He tried to back away, but the tree he had hid against blocked his way, "It's only a  
  
dream!" He cried to himself as the smoky shadows caught his wrists, ankles and waist.  
  
But he cried in pain as the shadows burned him.  
  
The shadows yanked at him and pulled him away from the tree.  
  
He screamed as loud as he could as he felt as though he were being ripped apart in half.  
  
He struggled towards the tree, and there, he saw himself.  
  
His corpse.  
  
His body lay in the grass, eyes closed. The face was calm, and fresh, and in peace.  
  
"No!" He whispered, then struggled wildly towards his body, "It's only a dream!" He  
  
roared.  
  
"Only a dream?" Murmured Zandramas, "No," She smiled, "It is a new reality."  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Belgarath hurried past the house of Almas's mother's, and ran so fast, he gasped for air.  
  
He felt someone using his or her will, and it made a lot of noise.  
  
It had to be Durain.  
  
Then, he saw a burning house, from where the surge of will was being used.  
  
A crowd of people blocked his way, and in a hurry, he yelled, "Away!" and used his Will.  
  
People flew out of his way as he tried to get into the wildly burning house. But it was  
  
impossible.  
  
Again, he used his Will to stop the fire, and hurried into the house. The smoke blinded  
  
the old sorcerer, and he stumbled around. Whoever had been using their will had stopped.  
  
"Durain!" He called.  
  
No answer.  
  
He called out to his daughter's son, but no one answered.  
  
Then he burst into a bedroom.  
  
It was Durain's bedroom.  
  
And saw only charred wood, bed, and cloths. But in the corner of the room, he saw his  
  
grandson.  
  
Durain was laying on the floor, untouched by the fire that had ruined his home.  
  
Belgarath touched the young man's face, shook him to awaken him, but he lay cold (in  
  
spit of the fire's heat) calm, and at peace. He was dead.  
  
Belgarath's breath caught, and he looked away, only to see his gift (the dragon amulet) on  
  
the floor next to the bed, as though someone had tossed it there right when the fire had  
  
stopped.  
  
"No," Belgarath said through clenched teeth, "You can't be dead!"  
  
He looked at Durain in anguish, and said, "How could this be?" 


	7. Gone Forever

Belgarath lifted the corpse of his grandson, and wept.  
  
Using his Will, he transformed Durain's body into a tiny, pinky sized figure, put him onto  
  
the floor and wrapped the young dead sorcerer into a handkerchief, transformed himself  
  
into the wolf, and lifted the knot of the handkerchief that held Durain and ran off.  
  
All he did was run.  
  
When he couldn't run, he went falcon.  
  
And so it went on for days.  
  
It took him two weeks to reach his daughter's cottage, late at night.  
  
Silently, and carefully, he put the handkerchief onto the earth and returned Durain to his  
  
normal size. Seeing Durain's closed eyes tore at Belgarath.  
  
Lifting his wolfish head, he howled at the night again and again until another wolf,  
  
Poledra, his wife, came to his side. Seeing Durain, she sat down, placing a paw upon  
  
Durain's still, cold chest, silently crying.  
  
Soon enough, Polgara rushed out of her cottage, followed by Durnik and Coro. She let  
  
out a scream of terror when she saw Durain, falling to her knees as the sky rained, its  
  
tears kissing the tears of Polgara's.  
  
"No." Polgara murmured into her hands, "No.h-how could he die? My son.O Gods,  
  
why have you forsaken me?" This time she cried to the sky, yelling for all she was worth.  
  
Crying to the God's that had taken her beloved ones away.  
  
She screamed, knowing that Durain was gone forever.  
  
Like Beldaran.  
  
"First you take my sister, now my son! Why? Why have thou all forsaken me thusly?"  
  
Looking up at her living son, Polgara said, "You did not feel your brother's heart stop?"  
  
She asked, "You are his twin, Coro, you could have felt SOMETHING!"  
  
Coro's blank expression turned to that of agony, and turned his face away.  
  
"Look at your brother, Coro! Look! He lay's upon this earth, feeling nothing touch him!"  
  
Polgara grabbed at Durain's stiff cold hand, "He is like ice!" She exclaimed, hysterical.  
  
"Pol," Durnik took his wife by the shoulders, "Come.."  
  
Leading her back to the cottage, Durnik lowered his head in sorrow as Coro helped  
  
Belgarath lift Durain. Within hours, they had created a formal grave on the top on the  
  
hill, shadowed by the weeping trees, and buried Durain.  
  
Shivering, Coro murmured, "My brother's heart did not stop.. it still beats..I feel  
  
it.."  
  
"What?" Belgarath asked.  
  
Shaking his head, Coro said, "I just can't believe that he is dead."  
  
Without a word, Belgarath turned and left, as the rain-washed his tears away.  
  
But Coro stayed there long, at the foot of his brother's grave.  
  
In his head, he heard the steady beating of Durain's heart, he felt Durain's need.. need  
  
for what? But as he closed his eyes, a sudden vision took over him. But yet it wasn't  
  
just a simple vision.it was a vision of warning for he felt the warning in his head and  
  
heart.  
  
All he saw was blue.  
  
Then the blue seemed to shimmer into water.  
  
A scene took place then. And as he watched in wonder, the water became an ocean, then  
  
the surface rippled. As he watched, the surface rippled until someone began to emerge  
  
out of the water. A head, baring long golden hair came out, face down, with a  
  
gold crown upon the head. Then the body came, wearing blue robes. Dripping with water,  
  
the figure hovered over the water.  
  
Then something happened, that had never happened before.  
  
Another figure came out.  
  
This figure bore blue-black hair, and black dripping robes, right next to the maiden,  
  
hovering above the water like her.  
  
With a flash, the woman looked up with emerald eyes, and the man (the other figure)  
  
looked up into Coro's eyes with brown ones. All time seemed to freeze at that moment as  
  
Coro saw his own reflection staring back at him. But he knew, it was not he that he was  
  
looking at.  
  
It was Durain, his dead twin brother.  
  
With a cry, Coro jumped away from the grave and the vision, and realized he had fallen  
  
to his knees. Quickly rising to his feet, Coro looked around, a lingering gaze at the grave,  
  
then ran down the muddy hill to the cottage. But as he ran, the winds howled to him,  
  
warning him as he saw Poledra, his grandmother, stand upon the hill where Durain lay,  
  
her golden eyes glowing as he ran inside.  
  
Looking down at the grave of her grandson, Poledra said, "One suspects that you are not  
  
dead.."  
  
"Yessssssss." The winds hissed in her ears. 


	8. The Heiress

He was nothing.  
  
All he felt in the darkness was death...loneliness, and the feeling of being deprived of  
  
something precious.  
  
Yet he knew that he was not alone.  
  
He was never going to be alone anymore.  
  
Not where they had taken him.  
  
They...  
  
The ones who had taken him from what they called 'the prison'...the body.  
  
He was without a body now.  
  
It was so dark, his surroundings, that he did not know whither his eyes were open, or  
  
closed. A chilling wind blew in from somewhere...making his skin--if he had any-  
  
prickle, and his teeth chatter. Searching for that wind in this darkness was impossible. He  
  
was numb, but he knew that he touched nothing, not even the floor of wherever he was.  
  
Opening cracked lips, he called out, but the shadows swallowed his cry... he didn't even  
  
hear his own voice.  
  
Had he even spoken?  
  
In panic, remembering all that had happened to him, his heart hammered against his  
  
chest, trying to crawl up his aching throat, and moaned (or so he thought).  
  
"Think of something good," he told himself, "This'll all be a dream. I'm at home, sleeping  
  
in my bed with the Dal people all around my home."  
  
But instead of that home he had created for himself, he saw the Vale in his mind.  
  
Something he had never been able to forget.  
  
Then he saw his mother, fair and enchanting with his simple-looking father. And then,  
  
with long-lost sadness, he saw Coro, his twin. How long had he tried to forget that day?  
  
The day that made him decide to run away.  
  
Trying not to recall it, Durain struggled to not think of it, but it was hopeless.  
  
It all came in flashes, little memories that had been buried for years coming up before his  
  
eyes like a slide-show, making him see, making him remember. "No!" He wept, when he  
  
saw the day.  
  
Coro lay at his feet, a pool of blood around him, and there he-Durain- stood, a bat in  
  
his hands, shaking all over as he looked up at his mother who came running out of the  
  
cottage, alarmed by Coro's screams. He trembled like the earth that swallowed cities. In  
  
one glance to his mother, he knew his life had finally crumbled to his feet in dust.  
  
All the trust, love, and care fell from her steel gray eyes, and she looked in his eyes,  
  
searching for an explanation. But found none. How could he tell her that he hadn't even  
  
touched Coro? Could he convince her with Coro's blood on his hands?  
  
Tears shone in his beloved mother's eyes, which flashed down to look at Coro who  
  
moaned, weakly struggling in the bloody grass. "D-don't hurt me." Whimpered the  
  
youngest of her sons.  
  
Finally, her lips parted, and she screamed, "What did you do, Durain? What did you do to  
  
your brother?!" That hadn't truly hurt him. It was something he would expect from her,  
  
but what came next, out of those rose-red lips ripped out his heart, and made him want to  
  
die when he bent down to turn Coro over, "Don't touch my son! Go, Durain, before I  
  
explode!"  
  
"Mother-"  
  
"Don't call me that! I am not your mother! Go!"  
  
He saw the anger.  
  
Unconcealed disappointment.  
  
The hate.  
  
Then he ran.  
  
How long he ran, he didn't remember.  
  
But years later, he had returned to the Vale, only to see Coro with Ulthanis, his new  
  
bride, in the room that had once been Coro's and his. His grandfather was nowhere to be  
  
seen, nor his grandmother. But he had seen his parents.  
  
His father held his immortal mother in his arms as she silently wept in front of the  
  
fireplace, and he heard his father saying, "Forget about him," but she just cried more, "He  
  
left us, didn't he? He doesn't care for us, or he would've been here a long time ago.  
  
C'mon, think of what we have."  
  
Finally, saddened, Durain pulled his thoughts away from his parents, his brother, his  
  
sister-in-law, and his grandparents. What he thought of now, was nothing.  
  
He was nothing.  
  
What was he?  
  
Was he alive? Dead?  
  
Breathing?  
  
Where was he?  
  
A soft pair of hands touched his shoulder. That he felt. And wondered where his bodily  
  
feelings had vanished. Turning around to that warm touch, sudden light sprayed away the  
  
darkness like the sun, and he looked up into the murky eyes of a maiden so fair that it  
  
took his breath away. Fairer was she then Almas who had handed him over to death so  
  
freely.  
  
This maiden's murky eyes held him fast, her black hair draped over her shoulders,  
  
pouring down to her hips like silk as her moon-bright skin shone beautifully, her white  
  
gown pouring to the stone floor that suddenly seemed to spread from her covered feet. In  
  
her hair she wore a thin silver chain that sat upon her crest, a diamond, hanging from the  
  
chain fell to the middle of her forehead.  
  
Looking at his naked shoulder, he saw her glowing hand rest upon it lightly.  
  
"W-who are you?" He asked her, now able to hear himself.  
  
He noticed that she stood, slightly bent to touch his shoulder from where he sat, and rose  
  
to his knees, "I am Eyroon, heiress of the Dragon God." She replied quietly, withdrawing  
  
her hand from him to smoothly fold her arms in front of herself.  
  
"Torak?" Durain murmured in surprise.  
  
The maiden's full pale-pink lips slightly twitched into a half smile that said everything. 


	9. God's Never Die

The darkness called to him.  
  
It wanted him.  
  
And the owner of the darkness needed him.  
  
He had nowhere to run, no place to hide.  
  
As he watched from the bottom of the dais that bore a mighty throne, fit for three people to  
  
sit upon, Eyroon, the heiress of Torak, came out from behind the throne and smiled down at  
  
him with her murky-deep eyes.  
  
He kneeled before the empty throne in chains and only a loincloth that covered him. His hair  
  
was longer then he remembered, for now it was a little past his bulky shoulders, he was paler,  
  
and his hands were smooth as though he had never used then in his knightly work-outs with  
  
he hadn't had that awful dream of Zandramas.  
  
Was it even a dream?  
  
He still couldn't figure that out.  
  
"Why am I kneeling?" Durain questioned the beautiful maiden.  
  
She raised an eyebrow and looked around.  
  
The hall they were in was dim, and empty, and every word they uttered echoed as though  
  
they had screamed them. There were no windows, no light from the sun. They were in  
  
complete darkness other then the torches clinging to the walls.  
  
"You do not know who is coming?" She replied with an answer.  
  
He shivered in thought of who it might be.  
  
"Don't fear him, Beldurain." Eyroon said quietly. Her barely murmured phrase echoed  
  
clearly in the hall, and the soft shuffle of her slippers, hidden under her gown, vibrated  
  
with her voice as she slowly walked down the dais.  
  
Surprised by her calling him this, he gazed at her with his brown eyes that shone like two  
  
brown suns from the reflection of a torch nearby.  
  
"You are a sorcerer-are you not?"  
  
"Y-yes." He replied.  
  
Eyroon smiled, "Good," She said.  
  
"Why do you ask?"  
  
"Because I need to know these things, it is my duty."  
  
"What is your duty here? This is a hall but I don't remember walking here. Where is here  
  
anyways?"  
  
Clicking her tongue, she muttered, "Too many questions, Beldurain. But I will answer  
  
them, for you need to know these things."  
  
Drawing in a deep breath, she murmured, "It is my duty to find the Son, and here? Here  
  
is. my father's realm. Belgarion truly believed he could kill a God who was not meant  
  
to be born?" She chuckled dryly, then added almost to herself, "Torak never dies.Gods  
  
don't die, Beldurain."  
  
After a moment of silence, Durain questioned her, "What Son are you talking of-me?-  
  
Because I'm Polgara's son?"  
  
"I'm talking of the." She squinted her dark eyes at him, as though she were telling him  
  
one of the greatest secrets in the world, "I'm on a search for the Son of Shadows."  
  
"Son of Shadows? Who is that?"  
  
"I believe it's you-although me father doesn't think so."  
  
"What's the Son of Shadows?" His throat had tightened, and now he watched her with  
  
wide fearful eyes.  
  
"The Son of Shadows is the one that will forever be possessed by the Demon- "  
  
"Enough will be enough Eyroon." Came a light voice that was tight with restrained anger.  
  
Quickly looking over Durain, Eyroon's dark eyes blazed and she glared at the woman  
  
behind Durain.  
  
Durain, even though he hadn't turned to look at who it was that was behind him, he felt  
  
heat bore into him, knowing that whoever it was, was staring into the back of his head  
  
with hatred.  
  
Looking over, Durain gazed upon the woman who had kidnapped his cousin Geran when  
  
he had been an infant, and had stolen his soul in his dream.  
  
Zandramas was exactly as Garion had said she looked.  
  
Beautifully cold dark eyes looked right into his as her glowing skin captured every crease  
  
in her forehead as the black robe she wore enhanced her skin, and helped darken her eyes  
  
and hair.  
  
"Polgara's son." Zandramas murmured, "Well.you look nothing like the witch."  
  
Durain glared.  
  
Zandramas chuckled loudly, "Well, well, well. you have her temper alright."  
  
"I thought you were sent to be eaten by a demon forever." Durain retorted.  
  
Fire spat out of her eyes, but she raised an eyebrow instead.  
  
"I made a deal with the beast. In exchange for my soul, it gets the soul of a sorcerer born  
  
with ancient blood.Belgarath's blood-I heard it's more.delicious."  
  
Durain paled.  
  
"Stop toying with him, Zandramas!" Eyroon roared from behind Durain. "Just deal with  
  
him and hurry up."  
  
Zandramas smiled that smile that seemed to be pasted upon her doll-like face.  
  
Turning her dark life-less eyes on Durain, she murmured in thought, "Deal with him."  
  
And the glowing little sparks under her skin buzzed with energy, moving faster with her  
  
excitement of 'dealing with him'. Desperate, Durain looked over his shoulder at Eyroon,  
  
but what he received was nothing he expected.  
  
"I'll see you again Beldurain." But as she said this, her voice murmured in his head,  
  
"Stay away from the light for as long as you can.for your life depends on it."  
  
Looking back towards Zandramas, his eyes grew wide as he saw black whipping smoke  
  
pour out of Zandramas' mouth that reached towards him, enveloping him in his deepest  
  
fears.  
  
The smoke grasped him, tightening around him as a snake does to its prey, and cried out  
  
in his pain and horror and distantly heard the rattle of his chains as they bit into his skin,  
  
demanding him to relent to the shadows.  
  
He felt himself truly die now as the darkness took him.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
"He's coming to see you!"  
  
"He'll make the moon break under his anger."  
  
"Hide dear Belcoro."  
  
"Coro.heh."  
  
These voices.voices he knew, yet didn't, rang through his head in a whirlpool as he lay  
  
in his wife's arms.  
  
"He's coming."  
  
"Coming."  
  
"He hunger's for life again-do you not feel it?"  
  
"For you."  
  
"Life is worth the death of an innocent sacrifice."  
  
"Coro.shall you give us your daughter for your brother?"  
  
"No." Coro murmured in reply, half asleep.  
  
A distant knocking drew him away from the shadowy visions-pictures that these  
  
pictures allowed him to see.  
  
At the mention of 'brother' Durain's face, exactly like his, flashed into his mind.  
  
Durain's face was smiling first, but as the voices became incoherent, he saw his infant  
  
daughter, Aranda, his wife Ulthanis, and then slowly, he witnessed Durain's face cease to  
  
smile.  
  
The smiling mouth opened in a shriek of terror as his twin brother's face began to decay,  
  
and with his brothers soundless scream, Coro screamed, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping  
  
the sight in his mind will vanish.  
  
"Durain!" Coro wept.  
  
The knocking grew louder, and he awoke in a fit of sweats.  
  
Ulthanis was pacing the floor with Durnik shaking Coro from where he lay on his bed.  
  
"I'm awake, father!" Coro cried.  
  
Durnik backed away, breathing hard.  
  
Polgara stood in the doorway, holding the crying infant Aranda.  
  
"What is it?" Durnik, his simple father, questioned.  
  
"Nothing," Coro replied.  
  
"Don't lie! It was something!-you were screaming like you were being ripped apart!"  
  
Ulthanis, Coro's blond gorgeous wife shrieked, pointing a finger accusingly at him.  
  
There was silence aside from Aranda's weak cries.  
  
"It was Durain." Coro muttered, sitting up to lean against the wall their bed was pushed  
  
to.  
  
Polgara lowered her face to the baby, and avoided all eyes that were shot at her.  
  
"What about Durain?" Ulthanis asked.  
  
"I-I saw him screaming.and.and decaying."  
  
"Oh!" Polgara tossed her head, and stormed out of the room.  
  
Durnik looked away from Coro, "Did you have to say that?" And left the room to search  
  
for his wife.  
  
Ulthanis just stared at Coro in bewilderment.  
  
Gazing away from her, Coro stood up and looked out the window and saw the hill on  
  
which Durain had been buried in.  
  
What was Durain trying to say to him?  
  
Why were those voices warning him?  
  
And what sacrifice were they talking of?  
  
'In exchange for your daughter you'll get your brother'-what was that about?  
  
If anything happened to Aranda.Coro would do anything to get revenge.  
  
Anything.  
  
But little did Coro know that that was exactly what the Dragon God wished him to  
  
believe... 


End file.
